


The Soldier

by arrowsong



Series: Ghosts That We Knew [2]
Category: Bones, Captain America (Movies), Criminal Minds, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:09:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowsong/pseuds/arrowsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie conducts the psych eval to determine where exactly the Winter Soldier ends, and where the man inside begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Soldier

Looking around, tugging gently at the collar of his shirt, Bucky fidgeted nervously in his seat.  The whole place put him on edge.  People constantly raced past them, like drops of rain on a car window, not one of them bothering to cast the two men a second glance.  Was there something special going on today they should know about, or was this just another day at Quantico? 

With burning intensity, Bucky watched everyone bustle past them, consumed in their private worlds, completely unaware that a former Soviet Assassin was currently sitting in their offices with a visitors badge clipped to the lapel of his jacket.  The way he figured it, it was for the best they didn’t know.  Every time someone rounded the corner his hands gripped the arms of his chair a little tighter, anxiously anticipating the next agent to be the one to tell him that he was under arrest for his crimes against the United States of America and would be spending the remainder of his life locked away at Guantanamo Bay.  His anxiety was only exacerbated by the fact that the agent conducting his evaluation was now at least five minutes late.

“Relax, would you?  Everything will be just fine.  I’m sure he’s just busy, that’s all.”  Steve sat, in stark contrast, across from Bucky in the small waiting area.   Looking calm, comfortable and poised, he read this morning’s paper while Bucky fretted and shifted tensely in his seat.

Taking his friend’s advice Bucky focused his attention instead on the front page of Steve’s paper. According to the headlines the big story today was some serial killer in Tennessee had his execution date set. Skimming the article as Steve continued reading a different page, Bucky didn’t catch much else other than the fact that this guy was supposedly the worst the State had ever seen, with a record breaking thirty-six kills over a span of nine years. As a former professional gunman, Bucky had to admit that thirty-six was an impressive number – for a civilian. Scolding himself he lowered his head in shame, that was probably not something he should be thinking considering he was trying to convince people that the Winter Soldier was gone, and he was ‘just Bucky’ now.

Folding the paper in half and setting in his seat Steve faced his friend. “Remember that no matter what happens in there, I’m with you . . .”

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky exhaled with a small smile before running his fingers through his freshly cut hair – at least he was starting to look like his old self instead of some bum on the street.  He knew in his bones that all of this was just procedure. Fury couldn’t risk sending him out into the field if there was a risk he might slip back into who _they_ made him into.  But he’d been getting help, and going to counselling regularly. He even stood up and spoke about his experience as the ‘Winter Soldier’ last week during Sam’s VA support group.  Things had been better, he was better, now, but the thought of having to undergo a psychiatric evaluation by some fed worried him.  They didn’t know him.  What if he slipped and said something wrong – it meant he’d be stuck at a desk job for the rest of his life. 

“Sergeant Barnes?”  A polite female voice grabbed his attention, disrupting his mounting anxiety.

Popping his head up in the direction of the voice Bucky spotted her standing in the door way smiling as she looked at him, holding a stack of paperwork. She was an attractive young woman; with dark chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail and long bangs framing her delicate features.  Her casual attire of black jeans and wine coloured blouse was muted testimony to more relaxed dress code adopted by the Bureau over the last few years.  He also noted, however, that she wore a gun holstered to her belt, and a badge on the inside collar of her blouse though he couldn’t make out a name.

“Hi,” he perked up immediately.  Standing he straightened up, and leaned in to shake the woman’s hand. Steve rose from his seat as well as a sign of respect for the woman before shaking her hand as well.

“Hi,” she returned his apparent enthusiasm.  “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Rhys.  If you, and Captain Rogers want to follow me this way,” she nodded in Steve’s direction with the same welcoming smile, before leading them out of the waiting area. 

The two men followed her down a series of short corridors until she stopped in front of a room full of computer monitors.  The nameplate on the door read: Penelope Garcia.

“Our Technical Analyst has agreed to let us use her office for the evaluation,” the female agent explained before opening the door.  “It’s generally less intimidating than our other offices.”  She led them both in, and they saw what she meant. 

The room was small, but filled with bright colours, stuffed animals, strangely shaped toys, including rainbow slinkies, neon water filled balls with squishy spikes on them, amongst other things.  Bucky thought it looked like the room of a child – not an office at the FBI headquarters in Quantico. 

“If you two want to take a seat,” she ushered for them to sit down in some of the rolling office chairs provided.

“So is this where we’ll be meeting the agent conducting the evaluation?” Steve asked nervously, sinking down into the leather seat.  He had no idea why he was nervous, he had no reason to be.  He wasn’t the one undergoing the evaluation, but he might as well be from the way his palms sweated and his breaths increased rapidly.  Twice now Bucky offered him a hit from his old asthma inhaler.

Agent Rhys looked back at him with a confused expression as she sat down into a chair of her own.  Reaching down beside her chair she picked up a bottle of water, twisting the cap off she spoke, “I’m sorry Captain Rogers I think there’s been some confusion.  I’m the agent who will be evaluating Mr. Barnes.”  She handed each man a bottle of water with a polite smile - just incase they needed it during the eval.

Steve sat stunned for a second.  He didn’t know why, but he just assumed that the agent would be a burly tough guy who never smiled, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he kind of expected Bucky to evaluate Bucky.  “Fury told us the Agent’s name was Charlie Rise? Arr-hiss? Er-huss. . . how  do you say that?” Steve argued looking down at the name on the paper, ignoring the panicked jab to his ribs from Bucky. 

The last thing Bucky needed was Agent Rhys declaring him unfit for duty before the evaluation had even begun because Steve pissed her off. Steve leaned over and showed the name to Buck.  Even he had no idea how it was supposed to be pronounced.

“May I take a look at that?” she asked craning her neck to read the orders in Steve’s hand.

Steve held out the paper for her to read.  “See,” he pointed at the name on the paper.  “Charlie . . . R . . . something.”

The woman chuckled, leaning back in her seat.  “It’s pronounced Reece, like the candy bar– no relations- but that’s me.  Agent Charlie Rhys at your service. The spelling is Welsh, it throws everybody off, don’t worry.”

“Not trying to sound too old-fashioned, but back in my day Charlie was a boy’s name.” Steve sat, still confused as to why anyone would name a woman Charlie – unless it was Charlene, maybe Charlotte.  “Is it short for something?” He asked quickly.

“No,” she laughed again.  “My dad just really wanted a boy.  Don’t worry, you’re not the first to make the mistake, and I doubt you’ll be the last,” she smiled at them both. She focused her attention back on to Bucky, who by that point was staring off in the direction of the numerous computer monitors wondering why anyone would choose to work here.  “So, you ready to begin.”

The momentary calm he felt when he first laid eyes on her vanished as suddenly as it appeared and his nerves returned in full force.  “I think so,” he said smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in his blue jeans. 

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” she assured him with a comforting smile. “We’re just talking. That’s all this is. They use fancy words like ‘evaluation’ and ‘assessment’ on the paperwork, but really all we do is talk. From there we’ll know where you are, and if you’re ready to return to the field.  I’ll ask you a few questions about this or that; please feel free to ask me questions in return if you want, it might help you to relax.  You can also try closing your eyes if you need to.  If talking to me makes you uncomfortable you can try  turning and talking to Steve, or holding on to something – feel free to do whatever feels comfortable to you. I checked with Garcia, you have her permission to handle anything in the room that is not her, and I quote ‘uberly delicious desktop.’”

Bucky noticed she had a calm, soothing voice as he nodded his head. “Lets do this.” The sooner it began to sooner it would be over.

“Alright,” Charlie nodded with a reassuring expression, taking a deep breath of her own. “Before we begin, I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath.  Clear your head, focus on all your other senses at the moment, what you smell, hear, feel, taste etc.  We’ll begin once you open your eyes.  Take all the time you need.” 

She waited, watching as Bucky closed his eyes and take several deep breaths. Doing as she instructed he let his other senses take control.  Listening intently he heard the whirr of computers in the background, the long, slow exhale of Steve’s breaths – now it was his turn to be anxious.  He also heard the scratch of her pen on paper as Charlie wrote something on her note pad, probably just her name. After all, how could she evaluate him sitting there with his eyes closed?

Exploring his other senses he noted the feeling of the chair’s fabric beneath the fingertips of his good hand, as his other hand gripped the arm of his chair. He could still taste his last cup of coffee linger on his tongue. Wishing suddenly he had a mint on him – he probably had coffee breath.  Sniffing the air around him only one scent caught his attention.  All he could focus on now was the sweet fragrance of Agent Rhys’ perfume.  He didn’t know what it was but smelled light and sweet, like flowers mixed with citrus, probably something designer but without being too expensive and flashy – just enough to be classy.  He liked it.  He allowed himself linger a little longer on the scent and the feeling it gave him, before finally opening his eyes, already feeling immensely calmer than before.

Once he looked in her direction she began.  “We’re just going to go over some of your biography just to ease you into this.” Charlie explained, adjusting her seat so she focused solely on him. “Your full name is James Buchanan Barnes?” 

“Yes,” he replied with a nod. “Everyone calls me Bucky."  He paused.  "You could call me Bucky, if you want,” he added with the same smooth confidence he had in his younger years, back before there was the Winter Soldier and Captain America; back in the days when Steve was Steve, a scrawny kid from Brooklyn, his best friend, and he was no one other than just Bucky.  Hearing the low, audible groan he could feel Steve rolling his eyes behind him. She smiled though, just over the top of her papers as she looked at him through her bangs.  It was hard to see, but she smiled as she shook her head and made a note on her paper.  She had a pretty smile.

“And you were born March 20th 19 . . . wait, that can’t be right. This says 1919.” She looked up from her paperwork expecting some kind of explanation for what had to be some kind of joke. There was no way he could be 97 years-old.

“No, that’s right.”  Bucky exhaled nervously, flexing his bionic hand, once, twice, three times. He caught her eyeing the flexing of the hand, and make note of something on her legal pad.  What the hell did she get form that?

“Wow,” she mouthed, eyeing him before looking back at the open file in her lap. “You . . .you look good.” She commented in a fluster, causing a small, amused chuckle from Steve as Bucky thanked her for the compliment with an awkward bob of his head, and charming boyish grin.

She returned the smile and looked back down at the file in her lap, reading through some more of the information.  “Oh dear,” she muttered under her breath before looking up. “Looks like you and I are going to have a problem, Sgt. Barnes.”

Exchanging a brief panicked look with Steve Bucky gulped, “ and what might that be Agent?” he asked with shaking breaths.

“It says here, you’re a Dodgers fan, I’m a Yankees girl.” Charlie replied sucking the air in through her teeth.  “That’s going to be an issue,” she added playfully.

A grin broke through Bucky’s concern.  “You have got to be kidding me.  The Yanks are total garbage.”

“Oh, you did not just say that to me,” she shot him a surprised look. “The dodgers haven't won a title in the World Series since 1988, where as the Yankees last took the title in 2009.  Let the stats speak for themselves.”

“Those stats are garbage!”  Bucky argued, leaning forward in his seat. 

Charlie still didn’t look convinced, and began arguing the point until Steve cut her off. 

“Look I don’t mean to interrupt, but what does this have to do with anything?” He directed his focus on Agent Rhys, breaking the enchantment she seemed to cast over Bucky – reminding him that he wasn’t there to talk baseball with her.  Though, it had been a rather pleasant surprise to find someone who could actually talk ball.  Steve was a basketball kind of guy, and didn’t know much when it came to baseball.

A thin, exasperated smile stretched across her other wise pretty features. “Captain Rogers,” she addressed him losing the friendly edge she just had with Bucky.  “Part of my job is to asses whether or not Sgt. Barnes’ is truly ‘back to his old self’ or if this ‘Winter Soldier’ is still in there somewhere.  Now part of this is done through talking about that, but other aspects of this evaluation is noting his behaviour while talking about other interests and hobbies. For example while discussing the topic of baseball Sgt Barnes was alert, engaged and enthusiastic.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” Bucky asked curiously, leaning forward in his seat.  She said he could ask questions.

“Yes, it is actually,” she looked from Steve to Bucky.  “It shows to me that you remember having a deep love for baseball, and the Dodgers.  Typical behaviour I’ve profiled of the Winter Soldier would be to sit back, quite and withdrawn, to observe rather than engage in conversation.”

“How do you I’m not faking it?” asked Bucky.

“You’ve been nervous and on edge for weeks, for this evaluation. You know that I determine whether or not you’re allowed back into the field as an agent, or if you’re stuck behind some desk.  Now you grew up very active, probably heavily involved in sports, amongst other activities. Young, attractive, talented in several respects – but none of those are the reason you want back into the field. It’s more than the fact that you’ve been conditioned in believing that failure is unacceptable and results in pain. You have a protective streak to you.  You’re an older sibling, but its more than that.  You’re protective of Steve, and your friendship with him, defensive is your default setting.  You want back into the field not just because you crave action, but also due to an overwhelming desire to protect your oldest and closest friend- in your mind he is your brother, and is in need of your protection –even now.  Especially now.

You are also precise, efficient, and above all else punctual – that reflects a military background.  I’m not talking about the Winter Soldier.  I’m talking about behaviour drilled into you during basic training.  You ironed a crease into your jeans, just like how you were taught to iron the pants of your dress uniform.  If I were to take a look at your bedroom I’m guessing I would see a perfectly made bed with the corners folded down, and all socks and underwear folded perfectly and stacked in your drawer. You were also an army trained sniper – that requires a certain degree of skill and in depth training, and it’s a classification not easily earned which tells me your superiors saw a certain level of potential in you when you enlisted." 

“You got all that from his file?” Steve asked looking over the papers in her lap trying to read what exactly was written on those pages.

Directing her attention back to Steve, Charlie answered, “no. I actually got all that by watching Sgt. Barnes for five minutes while the two of you waited in the reception area.  You sat down first Captain, and rather than sit beside you, he sat across from you – making it easier for him to keep an eye on you even though he was the one undergoing the evaluation, not you.  He also noted every exit within the vicinity and which ones he would have easiest access to in the event of an emergency.  That tells me he values your safety over his own – all of which is behaviour typical of James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier.”

“You were deliberately late?” asked Bucky slightly annoyed. There he was seconds away from an anxiety attack in the middle of Quantico and she was off in the corner watching him sweat.  He balled his metal hand into a fist and mentally ran off a list of Russian curse words he would have loved to use in that instant.

“Yes sir,” nodded Charlie.  “And feel free to curse if you’d like to Sgt. Barnes, I assure you, you won’t hurt my feelings.” She smiled politely in his direction as though she’d read his mind about the Russian curses.  She thought about telling him there was nothing he could call he she hadn't heard before, but decided not to say anything more on the subject.  

“You see, this evaluation began the moment you stepped on the premises. I needed to see how you’d react under pressure.  It’s all part of creating a profile, which what we do here in the BAU.  We note behaviour through verbal and non-verbal cues, and build a profile around that.”  She addressed the both of them, together.  “I am good at my job.  I would not have been given this case if I wasn’t.” 

“What else have you picked up?” asked Bucky, leaning in closer. The concept of profiling suddenly fascinated him.

“I’m sorry Sgt. Barnes but we really have to continue with the evaluation. All of my findings will be in a report that I will submit to Director Fury. You can request to have that report made available to you through your agency.  Now, unless you or Captain Rogers have any further questions, may we continue?”

Steve looked to Bucky and shrugged.   He kept is head down, even though Agent Rhys kept her tone light and friendly he still felt as though he’d been scolded by the school principal. 

Charlie smiled and took it as a cue to keep going.  It took a minute or two for her to build up the rapport with Bucky again, but they quickly fell back into a comfortable stride with each other.

“So how has your temper been since you started to remember who you were? Have there been any spurts of irrational anger?”

“There was, a lot in the beginning,” admitted Bucky.  “But not recently.  At first, the more I started to remember who I was, the angrier I was about what happened to me – what they did to me.  I haven’t gotten over all of it yet, it’s one of the things I’m working on still but it wasn’t my fault, and the therapist has been helping me work through that anger.”  Casting a glance over in Charlie’s direction he watched her write something down on the pad before she looked back at him.

“And how do you? Work through the anger, that is?  What do you do when you’re upset or angry?”

“I go to the gun range for some target practice, or I go to the gym and box. I just feel the need to hit something,” he added the last part quietly.  Certain that could not have sounded too good about him.

“James, a lot of people work through difficult emotions such as anger through physical activity,” she leaned forward in her chair, to assure him. It was the first time she called him something other than Sgt. Barnes. 

“What do you do?” he asked looking up from the speck he’d been staring at on the computer screen behind her.  “When you’re upset,” he clarified.  “What do you do?”

Smiling bitterly Charlie replied without hesitating, “I run the cadet course at the FBI training academy.  I’m like you; I need to get physical.  But I also do other things.  Sometimes I go to the batting cage and practice my swing.”

There was a moment in the room of tense silence.  Everyone afraid to say something, to break the spell that seemed to have befallen them, no matter how uncomfortable it was. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but there was something different about Agent Rhys.  Something deep in his gut told Bucky that if anyone could even attempt to understand what he’d been through, it was her, but why?

 

Taking a deep breath, Charlie pushed through whatever was blocking her emotionally and looked back at the two men.  She focused her soft green eyes on Bucky.  “This next part might be difficult for you, but I need you to recall the last things you remember when you were the Winter Soldier, before Bucky started coming back.”

“Agent Rhys,” demanded Steve, outraged that she would ask something like that of Bucky.

Deflecting Steve’s outburst by raising her hand up in his direction she swivelled in her chair to face him.  “I know what you’re thinking Captain, and I wish I didn’t have to do this, but this is all part of the evaluation of people like Sgt. Barnes who have been through very trying experiences, I’m afraid.”  Sadly she turned back to face Bucky.  “Whenever you’re ready just close your eyes, and try to recall your last memories as the Winter Soldier, don't just focus on what you see,but what you smell, what you hear, what you're feeling.  Just remember, you’re in a safe space and no matter how it might feel, no one can hurt you here.”

Gulping, Bucky took a few shaky breaths before resting his hands on his knees and closing his eyes.  He relaxed his mind as Agent Rhys instructed, walking him through a series of steps to tap into his subconscious.  A cognitive interview – that’s what she called it. 

It was a strange feeling, to be attempting to wade through the pool of memories he’d spent the better part of a year trying to push from his mind, only now to be actively summoning them. 

“It’s back on the helicarrier in DC,” he described the scene unfolding in his mind out loud for everyone in the room as he slipped further into the recollection until the office around him disappeared.  The only thing that existed now was the helicarrier.

“Talk to me James,” Charlie urged gently.  “What are you feeling?  What’s going through your mind?”

His heart rate spiked as he recalled the confusion, the hatred and the anger he felt seeing Steve standing in front of him, in his Captain America suit, trying to get past him.  A million thoughts coursed through his mind.

“Steve’s there.  He’s standing ten feet in front of me.  He’s here to bring down the carrier.  I have to stop him. I can’t fail.  Not again. If I fail to complete this mission this time there is no telling what they’ll do to punish me this time. I can’t fail – I just can’t.”

“Do you know it’s Steve?  Do you recognize him as anything other than your mission?” asked Charlie in her calm voice. It was the only calm thing around him amidst the chaos, and it brought a strange comfort to him.

“Yes – and no,” Bucky answered less calm, in a frightened, shaky voice.  He knew that he recognized the man in front of him, but he can’t bring himself to admit it. “I know I recognize him, but I don’t want to, and I don’t know who he is, just that I know him from somewhere.”

“Why don’t you want to recognize him?” Charlie inquired softly, afraid that if she spoke too loudly she’d shatter the scene and lose him to the memory for good.

“Because the last time I did-” He chokes.  It’s hard to actually say the words out loud, especially in front of Steve.  Gulping he forces himself to continue. “The last time I recognized him, they wiped me.  T-th-that’s what they called it.  I don’t know what they do exactly I just know agony.  Pain, worse than anything you can imagine, and the next thing I don’t know who I am, or anything else – just my mission.

And my mission is to destroy Captain America.  Only he won’t shut up.  He keeps insisting that he knows me – no matter how hard I hit him, he keeps talking, he keeps calling me Bucky.  I don’t know that name.  I don’t know him, but I do.”  Confusions and anger melded together to create an explosive display of violence as the Winter Soldier took out his rage on the man in blue who won’t shut up.  He doesn’t know this man.  He can’t know this man. Knowing him means pain; it means failure, it means being locked away in the dark room again.  He feared the dark room above all else.

“Shut up!  I don’t know you! You hear me? I . . . don’t . . . know . . . you!” He’s shouting, and shaking violently in his seat, running fingers through his hair and balling his fists by his head trying to push the voice from his mind. “I can’t,” he whimpers the last words so meekly they sound as though they came from a child, not a full grown man. 

“Bucky,” Charlie called out his name, over and over again until she got through to im, piercing the veil of memory while shaking his knee trying to bring him back to reality.  “ Bucky open you’re eyes.  It’ all right, everything is all right.  You’re safe here. Look at me, just focus on me,” she instructed urgently.

Quickly his eyes flashed open.  He was no longer on the helicarrier but back in the tech room at Quantico. Looking around, heart still racing he noted all the stuffed animals staring back at him.

Steve looked on with concern, unsure of what to do to comfort his friend.  But Charlie did.  She knelt in front of him, one hand clutching his while cupping his face with the other. 

“Look at me,” she pleaded.  “Look at me.” She pulled his gaze down towards her.  “There is no dark room, no one is going to put you in a dark room – you’re safe.  I have you. You’re safe now. ” Beyond reason or protocol Charlie found herself leaning forward, capturing Bucky in a comforting embrace as she tried to pull him back to reality.

Returning to a steady beat, his heart finally settled down as he clung to Charlie, kneeling on the floor before him, holding him.  She got through to him.  That had never happened before.   

“It’s over.  It’s all over,” she assured him, pulling back from the embrace.  “You did good.  You did really good,” she added weakly with a smile, clearly on the brink of tears.  Never had an evaluation shaken her like this before.  While she got back in her seat again, she never let go of his hand, almost as though she was afraid of letting go of him, of losing him to the memories.  She needed to keep him with her, to keep him safe. 

Shaking his head a few times as he cleared away the remnants of the memories Bucky stared at her hand in his.  “Is that it?” he asked, it seemed so short.

“That’s it,” confirmed Charlie.  She was about to say something else when a bubbly blonde woman with pink stripes in her hair dashed in and wrapped Charlie in a tight embrace. “What the hell are you doing here?” She scolded looking at Charlie through her blue-framed glasses.

“I told Hotch to clear it with you to use your office for the eval,” Charlie replied looking back at the woman confused.

“No, I know that,” the woman flailed.  “I mean what are you doing here? Today of all days, you should be at home buried under a pile of blankets scarfing down pints of Haagen-Dazs until your sick, or in a snack-oma.”

“Garcia,” Charlie scolded, trying to keep the woman from continuing further in her speech.  “Not now,” she said with a cold, harsh edge in her otherwise warm voice.  She cast a side ways glance, and motioned in their direction with their head.

“Oh, you’re right, you’re right,” she gasped, realizing her error. Looking towards the two men, acknowledging their presence for the first time since she burst in, she started to apologize for her sudden and seemingly random intrusion. “So sorry . . . jinkies,” exhaled Garcia slowly.   “Wow,” she looked from Steve to Bucky and back again. “You’re Steve Rogers,” she looked to Charlie like she’d seen a ghost, “and that’s Bucky Barnes. Wow – you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.”

Garcia gaped, her face flustered as she started stammering, expressing her deep and total admiration for both men. Turning to face Charlie she spoke quickly.  “You’re interviewing Bucky Barnes, and Captain America is sitting in my office. You did not tell me that Captain America would be sitting in my office while you were interviewing Bucky Barnes.” She scolded, delighted by this turn of events.  “It is an honour and a pleasure to meet you sir.” She stumbled forward to shake Captain America’s hand.

“Pleasure is all mine,” Steve replied politely, but still a little awkward to receive such praise.  Not everyone adapted to Garcia as quickly as Charlie and the other agents in the BAU. He stood to meet her none the less, always proud to meet a ‘fan.’

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Garcia replied with her usual flirtatious flourish and a saucy wink in the Captain’s direction.

“Aren’t you currently one half of the fabulous BAU couple that is you and the ‘dreamy’ Derek Morgan?” Charlie asked folding her arms in front of her chest, unapologetically intruding on Garcia’s moment.

“Yes,” Garcia sighed with exasperation, as though they had been through this concept a dozen or more times.  “But while I fully appreciate the delicious chocolate thunder that is my beloved Derek Morgan, he also knows that I am a woman with certain tastes and when Steve ‘Mr. Wonderful’ Rogers is sitting in my office – he’s fair game.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, chuckling, Charlie marvelled Garcia’s gumption. “Alright, well if you behave I’ll get Captain Wonderful’s autograph for you.  I’ll meet you at the round table in a few minutes. We’re just wrapping up.”

“I can’t stay?” replied Penelope, crestfallen.  “This is my lair.”

“No,” answered Charlie firmly.  “Round Table. Ten minutes,” she reiterated as she gently pushed the woman out of her own office. 

“Okay, but I want that damn thing to say love!  None of this best wishes flibberjabber either,” she warned as Charlie continued to push her out.

“I’ll do what I can,” Charlie promised before closing the door. Looking back to Steve and James she apologized for her colleague’s behaviour. 

“It’s been a little crazy around here today,” she explained. Walking back to her vacant chair, she picked up the abandoned file and the legal pad with all of her personal notes.  “Garcia is really the best technical analyst in the Bureau, and she really is sweet – once you get to know her,” chuckled Charlie uncomfortably.  “Would you guys mind?  I’m afraid what’ll happen if I don’t deliver,” she held out a blank page and pen towards them.”

“Not a problem,” Bucky answered first, taking the pen and paper form her hand. Once he was done he passed the pad over to Steve, who followed suit.  Handing the pad back to Agent Rhys, Bucky asked if she wanted one for herself as well with a cocksure grin.

“I think I’ll be okay, but I know where to find you if I change my mind.” Cradling the pad and file close to her chest with one hand she extended the other, first towards Steve, then towards Bucky, shaking each of their hands respectively.  Escorting the men out of the office she dropped off her piles of case files and paperwork at her desk as they made their way to the elevator.

“It was a pleasure gentlemen.  I should have the evaluation completed and the report filed with your Commander first thing tomorrow morning.  After that it should take no more than three weeks for them to process it and get back to me if any follow up is needed.” She went through the same old concluding explanations for what they could expect to happen next.

Taking a chance that somewhere he still had that old school charm he used to rely on, Bucky flashed Agent Rhys his warmest, most enchanting smile. “Would it be possible to get a copy of the report?  I’d be fascinated to know what else you found during our little chat.”

Returning the warmth of his smile with a single look of those forest green eyes of hers, Agent Rhys nodded.  “I’ll see what I can do – but it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“Great,” replied Bucky, shifting his weight on to the heels of his boots. “I’m eager to learn more about this profiling business.”

“Really?” Her brows shot up in surprise. “Well, if that’s the case I can suggest a few books on the matter.  Depending on your interest in the matter there is ‘Mind Hunters’ or ‘Obsession’ by John Douglas and naturally any book written by my colleague, and mentor, David Rossi.”

“You know, I’m never going to remember that.” He hitched his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans as he shrugged offering an innocent yet impish look.

Casting a skeptical sideways look in his direction, she shook her head and pulled out a pen from the front pocket of her jeans.  “Damn, no paper.” She muttered looking around. 

“Here,” Steve offered the copy of the Washington Times he kept nestled under his arm for the interview in her direction.  “You can write on this.”

Grateful, she took the paper from his hands opened it to the front page. “Notorious Scottsborough Strangler Set to Die Later This Year,” was the first thing to catch her eye as she looked down at the paper in her hands.  Licking her lips her mouth went dry.  Internally, her mind raced, as her heart thundered in her chest and her stomach slowly started twisting into so many knots she swore her pumpkin cream cheese muffin was about to come back up all over her shoes.  On the outside she doubted she so much as blinked an eye as she scanned the article.  Flashing a quick glance at Steve she asked: “You finished with this?”

“Yeah – keep it,” he offered with a casual shrug.  “I usually read the Post, anyways.”

“Thanks,” she slid the paper under her arm.  “I forgot to buy my usual copy with my morning coffee and muffin,” she added casually.  _That, and a cheesecake brownie_ she added bitterly to herself.  Opening the Times to the business section she found a page with enough space on it and quickly scribbled down the list of names Bucky might be interested in. “It’s not an exhaustive list – but it’s a good place to start,” she explained, handing over the folded paper.

“It’s better than I would have found on my own.  Thanks,” replied Bucky taking the paper from her hand, craning his head to read what she’d written down.  She had cute writing.

“Well,” Charlie started, cradling the copy of the Times close to her chest, “I think you gents have it from here.”  Giving each man a firm, but polite smile and gentle nod she looked back over to her desk.  “This was fun, but I have a mountain of not so fun paperwork calling my name now.  Good Afternoon Captain Rogers, Sgt. Barnes. Best of luck to both of you.”

“You too, Agent Rhys.”  Steve nodded firmly, his expression neutral save for a tiny twinkle that lingered in his eyes as he looked at the young woman.  The same way, Bucky noted, that he used to when he addressed Peggy back in the day.  Evidently, the thought of his advanced age, compared to the much younger Agent Rhys, did not bother Steve the way it had him.

Realizing he hadn’t said anything, Bucky rushed a quick goodbye as he racked his brain for some reason to see her again, but at the moment he was drawing a blank.  He was about to say something else, when the doors to the elevator opened behind him. _Damn,_ he cursed to himself, _out of time._  Begrudgingly he stepped back into the confined space with Steve, offering Agent Rhys a final wave goodbye until the doors closed, removing her form his sight.

“Well, that was interesting,” mused Steve, attempting to make small talk as they rode the elevator down to the main floor.  Looking over he gave his friend a small, amused but knowing look.

“Shut up,” chuckled Bucky grinning in spite of himself, “punk.” Steve didn’t have to elaborate further – he knew. 

 

 

Charlie managed to hold off reading the paper until she sat back down at her desk. With shaking hands she scanned the front page of the article.  So far so good.  _Continued on page 3._  Opening the paper she found the giant spread taking up all of page three and most of page four as well.  _Damn_ she sighed. It was a lengthy account of the horrific crimes committed by the killer who the media had come to dub the ‘Scottsborough Strangler.’ It was not an article for those with a weak stomach.  Charlie was not one of those people.  She’d studied the Strangler case in the academy, and was somewhat of an expert on the case.

Reading the article word for word twice she couldn’t keep herself from staring at one of the black and white photographs. _Bastards_ , they always used that picture.  It was a photo of a stoic looking man with dark hair and a handsome face. He was looking over his shoulder as the police escorted him away in handcuffs.  In the background stood several FBI agents, and a stone faced young girl with her arms crossed in front of her chest as one of the agents placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  The man was looking for her as she watched with bitter impassivity as the FBI took him away, and out of her life forever.

After a fourth time reading the article she stared helplessly back at the girl in the photograph.  _She’s dead Charlie, that girl is gone,_ she reminded herself quietly before neatly folding the paper back up and tossing it to the furthest corner of her desk.   _Nothing but a ghost of her remains._

“Hey,” a gentle whisper caught Charlie’s attention, pulling her back to reality, reminding her that she still had a job to do. 

“Hey,” returned Charlie, looking up to find Penelope standing over by Spencer’s desk- the one across from hers.

“How are you doing?” asked Garcia timidly, her usually flouncy personality absent in her voice.  Instead she spoke as though she were afraid Charlie might collapse at any second, and without explanation.

“I’m managing,” replied Charlie absently, looking over at the discarded newspaper on her desk. 

“I got you this – thought you could do with a pick me up.” Penelope handed Charlie a small paper bag with a giant smiley face drawn on a purple sticky note.

Opening the bag, Charlie spotted the cheesecake brownie she’d been craving peeking back up at her. 

“Marry me?” She asked grinning back up at her friend she dropped the bag back on her desk, and got up to give Penelope the proper hug her action deserved. “Thank-you,” she whispered. There was only one place in the city that made the kind of cheesecake brownie’s she loved.  It was at least a 20-minute drive.  “How’d you know I’d need this?” Chuckled Charlie, wiping any traces of tears from her eyes.

“I saw the look on your face in the eval.  You know, before I kind of came bursting in. You have been busting baddies here with the team for years and as a result you have seen the very worst without batting one of your unnaturally long eyelashes – but today, in that room. I don’t know.  You were shaken, and I knew you needed this.”

Focusing on the cyan blue flower clips Garcia had woven into her hair. Charlie avoided the stunned yet concerned look Penelope was giving her that resembled Bambi watching his mother getting shot.  “Hotch called,” reported Garcia quietly.  “While you were conducting the eval. He wants you in Indiana ASAP tomorrow morning.  It’s worse than they thought over there.  They – uh- found three of the five missing girl’s bodies, the fourth was found alive – they want you there for a sketch, and a sixth girl has been taken.”

Gulping hard, Charlie nodded in agreement.  The dark criminal underworld would not take a break just because she was having a rough go of it.  She was still slightly shaken by what she’d seen in the eval, couple that with the feeling she had gnawing at the pit of her stomach after reading the article in the paper she really needed to ‘just hit something.’ 

“When I look at him I see me,” she answered the question Penelope had been too polite to ask. When she looked up into those troubled blue eyes she didn’t see James Buchanan Barnes.  She saw herself reflected in him, and it shook her to her very core. 

There was no reason to ask why.  Everyone who knew Charlie knew why she, more than anyone else, could relate to the super soldier.  Could that be the real reason why Hotch wanted her to perform the eval?  She could empathize with the former soldier?  Because she recognized the look of a man haunted by the ghosts of the past?  It was a look she wore on a daily basis and had for over half her life now, and as a result could see it in others now.

“I need to get out of here,” she declared after taking a moment to let the dust of her revelation settle.  “Can you tell Hotch, when he calls, that I’ll get the paperwork for Sgt. Barnes’ eval finished on the plane to Indiana.  I need to hit the training course,” tossing the crumpled paper in to the waste basket by her desk, she stood and grabbed the keys for her locker from the desk drawer.  There was no point in torturing herself further with the article.  She gleaned all the details she needed from it by her third pass over of it anyways.

“Sure thing,” replied Garcia in her tiny, soft voice, eying the paper in the trash bin. “Charlie?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Charlie looked over her shoulder.

“Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?  I don’t think you should be alone.  I know you have this whole tough girl thing, so people don’t ask questions, and I love you for that.  Not for being a badass well I love you for that too, but for being such a sweet, gooey marshmallow wrapped in badassery just so everyone doesn’t worry about you.  But with everything that’s going on and the media – I don’t think you should go back to your apartment.”

“I have a spare key to Spencer’s.  I was planning on crashing on his couch, and laying low there until this blows over.”

“Well I was thinking, since my gorgeous Derek isn’t going to be home tonight – why don’t you stay with me?  It’ll be a blast.  We’ll make it like a dumb girly sleepover like the ones in the movies where we order deliciously crappy take out, make cookies, and watch trashy romantic comedies while making fun of the crappy dialogue in our pyjama’s.”

“That sounds fun. Thanks Penelope.” Maybe it wasn’t her ideal night, but it sure as hell beat out sitting on Reid’s couch by herself, rereading one of his books on theoretical physics.  Besides, it could be just the thing she needed to take her mind off things.

“Yay,” Garcia bounced happily on the spot.  “We can even watch that creepy curse of the mummy movie you love so much – the reason why is totally beyond me, but that doesn’t matter because it has a nude scene and the guy is so totally ripped that it almost makes up for the bad effects and cheesy plot.”

Chuckling, Charlie shook her head.  “I love you, Garcia.”

“Back at you my little cornbread, hush puppy,” replied Garcia with a bob. “Ooh, speaking of being totally ripped and sinfully delicious.  Sgt. Dreamboat incoming at twelve o’clock,” whispered Garcia with a devilish smirk.

“What?” asked Charlie, shooting her a clueless look.

Garcia motioned for Charlie to look behind her with a twirl of her finger, while simultaneously making her most interested, seductive face.  Looking down the bridge of her nose she stared over the top of her glasses as the footsteps behind Charlie grew louder.

Following Garcia’s cue, Charlie turned to find James standing behind her. “Sgt. Barnes,” she greeted him with surprise.  “This is unexpected.  What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He stood awkwardly, uncomfortable around the young agent without any obvious reason or purpose to be conversing with her.

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” she asked confused.  Was he apologizing for what happened during the eval? That was hardly something to apologize for.  In fact, she should be the only apologizing for being forced to emotionally traumatize him as a part of her job.

“For whatever’s got you upset,” he explained quietly.  “I –uh- forgot something in the office, and I overheard you talking.  You mentioned in the eval that you like to run the cadet training course when you’re upset. Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

Charlie stared back at him slightly taken aback by his keen observation. That was unexpected. It also changed everything. “That’s very kind of you Sgt. Barnes.  Thank-you,” she said with a genuinely appreciative smile. This was a first.

 

“Um,” he stuttered, finding it difficult to actually get the words out. Scratching the back of his neck with his metal hand he looked back up at her.  It all seemed like a good idea back at the elevator. Pretend to forget something, find a reason to talk to her, and ask her out, simple.  But now that he was actually standing in front of her, he wasn’t so sure.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He used to be good at this.  “There was something else too.  Without coming off as a totally insensitive ass, I was wondering, if it was okay with you, if I might call on you sometime?”

“Oh I hate you,” huffed Garcia instantly, looking at Charlie. “You are totally living out my Hollywood noir fantasy,” she accused the otherwise mentally preoccupied Charlie.

“Don’t you have some database to be searching?” replied Charlie looking over at her friend, shooting her a ‘out of here – now!’ look.  The last thing she wanted, or needed, at the moment was an audience.

Taking the hint, Garcia backed off.  Not far however, just over to the next desk so she avoided Charlie’s peripheral vision.  She was still close enough to hear everything going on.  She could not pay to find dirt this juicy, even on Netflix.

“James,” Charlie exhaled slowly turning back to address him. Looking up at those baby blue puppy dog eyes, so eager and vulnerable, she found it incredibly hard to breath, let alone speak. “ I can’t be romantically involved with anyone I’m evaluating.  It creates complications that could undermine my findings.  Please, tell me you understand?”

“So that’s a no,” he softly whispered, looking down.  It was a long shot to begin with, and he knew it too. Had he not tried he would have regretted it, but it did not soften the blow any less. He just had this unsinkable feeling, and now he was capsizing. But he understood, and he couldn’t fault her – this was her job.

“No,” she chuckled. Leaning comfortably against her desk she watched him, amused.

“So that’s a yes?” asked Bucky, his head jerked up.  His heart raced as he waited for clarification. The sinking feeling gone as his heart floated away with his head.

“No,” laughed Charlie, her little secret hidden in creases of her smiles. If only he knew how to decode this enigma.

“So what is it then?” He mused with a lopsided grin, shoving his hands awkwardly in his pockets.  Was he actually nervous around a girl?  God, when was the last time that had happened?  Whatever he was feeling, nervous or otherwise, he liked it.

“You’ll figure it out,” she assured him, patting his chest in such a friendly, familiar fashion an outsider might think they’d known each other their entire lives, and not realize that three hours ago they were relative strangers. Without another word she walked away, leaving both Garcia and James stunned and in her wake.

Stepping into the idle elevator she could practically hear the smile in his voice as he promised to solve her little riddle.  Catching one final glimpse of him as the doors closed she couldn’t help one last smile when she saw the hopeful look on his face and the pleased albeit slightly jealous one etched on Garcia’s.  

She doubted she would ever see Sgt. Barnes again.  She didn’t have any means of contacting him, aside from going through his director.  And he certainly had no means of contacting her.  DC was a big city, and they were agents in two different agencies, not a career path that was known to be compatible with social lives. Fact was that relationships and marriages were the number one casualty in the FBI.  It remained highly unlikely they would cross paths again. 

 

Still, planted that day were seeds of something that she had given up on long ago. Hope.


End file.
